


1975

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Marauders' Era, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-26
Updated: 2009-12-08
Packaged: 2019-01-19 11:05:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12409140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: She has theories on everything, from why monarch butterflies are orange to the reasons a successful scrying potion has yet to be patented. It's hard to keep track.





	1. Chocolate Frogs

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

1975

_my memory plays our tune…the same old song_

Remus is fifteen the first time he meets her. Of course he’s known her for five years already. Known of her, that is. He’s not sure they’ve ever actually spoken. Now he finds himself on prefect duty with her, all ablaze with curly black hair and a Hufflepuff tie.

“I’m Trinn,”� she says happily. “You’re Remus Lupin.”� 

It’s not a question. 

“Trinn?”�

“Trinity,”� she admits.

They set off down the corridor. He notices her pace is slightly quicker than his and speeds up. It’s been a minute since either of them spoke. The silence would have been unbearable if she wasn’t humming. It’s that same song James tried to learn on Tegan Ederle’s guitar. He thinks it’s by The Augureys, but Remus isn’t the best authority on that.

“Nice belt,”� he says, then wants to hit his head on something.

She laughs and her hand strays up to the recycled Chocolate Frog wrappers.

“Thanks. I mean, collecting the cards is one thing, but what’s the point if you’re not going to put the rest to good use? Bit of a waste otherwise, really.”�

He doesn’t know if he’s supposed to agree or not now. Trinity Chenoweth doesn’t seem like the sort of girl who’d mind a good debate. He settles for a kind of half smile.

She returns the favor.

“So,”� she says, slowing her pace a bit, “what’s your theory?”�

“What?”� 

He’s sort of alarmed.

“There’s patterns in the patrol schedule,”� she clarifies, “for us prefects. You’ll notice Slytherins and Hufflepuffs are never paired together. Interesting, right?”�

He laughs. She has to be joking.

“More like Fawcett and Logan aren’t idiots,”� he counters, “They don’t need Slytherins making trouble.”�

“Who says Hufflepuffs can’t make trouble?”�

Now she’s angry and he wants to jump out the nearest window. So why’s she laughing?  



	2. Fudge

  


1976

__

I would call you up every Saturday night

Remus is a terrible human being and an even worse prefect. Technically he isn’t even the former and really shouldn’t be the latter.

While he’s been recovering in the hospital wing he’s missed three essays. So he’s in the library.

It’s not surprising he runs into Trinn.

“How’s your mum?”�

“Not great.”�

Strike one.

“I’m so sorry. Did you give her the fudge?”�

“Let’s just say that, considering your culinary talents, I didn’t quite have the heart.”�

Strike two, though not entirely untrue. Even Trinn tilts her head in consensus and says, “Touché.”�

Then she gets around to the reason he’s sure she came by.

“Listen, I didn’t want to say anything before you went home, but I think we really ought to talk about James.”�

At Hogwarts there’s an unspoken rule. With the exception of your best mates, you call people by their surnames. He thinks Trinn’s complete disobedience is the bravest and stupidest thing he’s heard of.

“Oh.”�

“Look, I’m no fan of Severus, but this has got to stop. Especially after that scene last week in the Charms corridor…Remus, you were standing ten feet away.”�

‘I know, I know. I should’ve done something, but I was so overwhelmed with OWLs and this visit coming up — “

Strike three. He thinks he should’ve jumped out the window in September when he had the chance.

He’s quite sure she couldn’t understand his real excuse, much as he wishes she could. It’s good she cuts him off before he digs himself into a deeper hole.

“Believe me, I’m not making light of your mother’s illness,”� she says, her blue eyes a mystery of understanding and something he can’t quite put his finger on, “Be as overwhelmed as you want. It’s just that this isn’t the first time and I thought…”�

Trinn tapers off then shakes her head. For a moment he doesn’t want to know what she was going to say. But there’s a smile back on her face before he gets the chance to change his mind.

“You researching for Slughorn’s essay?”� she asks.

Their year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs have Potions together. Trinn has a nearly frightening affinity for the subject. Would it not mean condemning Pete to a T, he would jump at the chance to partner with her.

“I might be.”�

“You’re wasting your time. The library books on the subject are rubbish, and besides, everything you need to know’s in chapter four of the class text. Only skip section eight, there’s two inaccurate formulas.”�

He rolls his eyes and adapts a tone of annoyance. “Well, now I can’t use any of that. Ta, Chenoweth.”�

She’s confused. “Sorry?”�

“It’s hardly a secret, Trinn,”� he says with an air of bitterness, “We all know you’re having an affair with Slughorn, which is why he always gives you the answers. If I took your advice it would really be his, and what kind of prefect would I be if I cheated?”�

She stares at him for a moment then bursts into gales of laughter. He laughs too because he sounds like an idiot and hers is that contagious.

“So what’s your theory then?”� she asks as soon as she recovers.

Remus sighs. She has theories on everything, from why monarchs are orange to the reasons why a successful scrying potion has yet to be patented. It’s hard to know which theory she means.

After a year, he’s learned the best answer is to reply, “On what?”�

So he does.

“Well,”� she says, sticking her wand right in the pile of hair on the back of her head, “Seeing as I’m having an affair with Slughorn, I don’t really have an excuse for the mad butterflies in my stomach every time I see you. Interesting, right?”�

Then the world shifts.


	3. Butterbeer

  


1976

__

and though time goes by I will always be

Remus is a bloody mess. He wants to tell her more than he’s ever wanted to tell anybody because it’s her, she’s Trinn, and the world just kind of fades away when he’s with her. And, for that same reason, he can’t.

Right now she’s sitting across the table from him, looking over her gillywater with her nostrils slightly flared, the way they do when she’s amused.

“You’re fairly quiet today,”� she remarks.

It’s still early autumn, so Trinn hasn’t bothered with a jacket. The shirt she’s wearing is from the Augureys concert back in July.

He shrugs.

“Just thinking,”� he says, sipping his butterbeer. He’s glad they’ve gone back to serving the normal kind instead of that cherry stuff.

“About James?”�

He looks up sharply, but she only looks concerned. Of course she is, he’s one of Remus’ best mates. No accusations, just Trinn being thoughtful and him being paranoid.

As usual.

“Yes,”� he says. At least he’s being honest.

“I can’t understand where Severus learned magic like that,”� she says serenely, “Five gashes, perfectly parallel, right down the neck. It’s a wonder James survived.”�

There’s an unpleasant squirming in his stomach.

He grunts because he can’t think how to respond without telling her.

“Did you try to interfere?”�

“What?”�

“I noticed Sirius isn’t talking to you. Since he’s usually James’ partner when it comes to Severus, I thought maybe you tried to break it up,”� she says, a little note of pride in her voice. “You know, use that prefect influence and all.”�

He hates to set her straight, and the words come out much more bitter than he had meant them to.

“I’m the one not talking to him.”�

She’s taken aback and he hates it, but she just smiles faintly and says, “So I theorized wrong.”�

“S’pose so.”�

Another sip of butterbeer and the silence stretches on. Remus feels like an idiot because so far this Hogsmeade trip has consisted of him brooding over the mental deficiencies of Sirius Black and being a bloody arse, even if Trinn is being grand about it.

He leans across the table and kisses her.


	4. Sherbert Balls

  


1977

__

and we’d both stay out ‘til the morning light

Remus is seventeen and finally a man. He’s also a flaming idiot and has a bump to prove it where Sinistra’s hex hit him.

“So what would you do if you were me?”�

Sirius turns over a flap of the map and says with superb indifference, “I’m not you.”�

“Yeah, but if you were,”� he says, annoyed. Of all the times to be bloody unhelpful.

“It’s not that hard, mate,”� Pete says patiently, “Apologize, bring her flowers, give it another go…somewhere a bit more private.”�

He rolls his eyes. He’ll count himself lucky if Trinn ever speaks to him again, nevermind agree to give it another go.

“Thanks,”� he says, grabbing another sherbert ball, “Really helpful.”�

A slight commotion is caused as James enters the dormitory, caught in the middle of shouting at someone at the bottom of the stairs, “ - my records one more time and I’ll set my cat on you. Dead serious, Grafton.”�

“Where’ve you been”� asks Pete.

Remus is glad for a change of topic.

“Meeting with Dumbledore.”�

“What, at this time of night?”�

James goes slightly red and mutters something about birds, then asks, “What’s wrong with you, Moony.”�

He’s about to ask if James has some sort of sixth sense, then realizes he’s surrounded by Honeyduke’s sweets. He wonders when he became such a woman.

“He’s got his knickers in a twist because Chenoweth stole his virginity,”� Sirius informs James.

He, too, goes red and says, “I have not got my knickers in a twist.”�

“On top of the Astronomy Tower, I might add,”� says Sirius, ignoring him.

James grins and says, “About time, mate. What’s the problem, then?”�

He grits his teeth and feels that, if his friends insist on being tactless gits, they could at least have the decency to know the days of the week.

“It’s Wednesday.”�

“So?”�

Idiot.

“Think about it, Prongs. What class do first years have Wednesday at midnight?”�

It takes a painfully slow moment for James to realize the implications and an even more painful four minutes for him to stop laughing.

“Well,”� he says finally, another laugh threatening to erupt at any moment, “that must have been embarrassing.”�

Remus is not amused.


	5. Peppermint Humbugs

  


1978

__

what seemed so strong has been and gone

Remus wants rather this night go on forever. He wants nothing more than to keep tomorrow away, because he has no idea what he’ll do once he graduates.

More than that, it just feels so right to be in this moment, sprawled with Trinn under the starry sky, limbs intertwined, listening to Caroline Augurey’s scratchy voice humming from his old radio, too lazy to do the chivalrous thing and reach out his hand to retrieve her blouse, or even to offer her another peppermint humbug.

He breathes and inhales that tangy scent he’s never been able to identify. His stomach growls.

She opens one eye and lifts her head, smiling vaguely at him.

“Want to go to the kitchen?”� she asks.

Normally he says yes. They usually stop there anyway before he finishes walking her to the Hufflepuff common room. But if they go to the kitchen now, the moment will be gone and that’s the last thing Remus wants.

“No,”� he says, “I can live off humbugs.”�

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Really? Forever?”�

“Of course not forever.”�

“Then what happens after? You have to go to the kitchen eventually.”�

“Eventually,”� he agrees, not wholly understanding the point of this conversation, not wholly caring. “But I don’t want to go now.”�

Trinn nods and smiles, but he notices that she’s biting her lip.

He frowns.

“What’s the matter?”�

“Huh?”� she looks at Remus as though only just realizing he’s there. “Oh, nothing. Yes, I’m fine.”�

But he’s far from convinced. He knows her better than that. Suddenly the familiar sensation creeps up — the one where it feels like someone’s put a freezing charm around his head, the one he always gets when he thinks someone knows. But how could she know? 

Full of dread, he says, “Trinn, you can tell me.”�

A moment passes before she sits up and says, smiling a little, “I wasn’t lying, there’s nothing wrong, it’s just…we ought to get married, I think.”�

He blinks. If he was expecting anything, it wasn’t this.

It takes him a moment to collect his thoughts, and she seizes her chance. She doesn’t look apprehensive at all.

“We wouldn’t do it right away.”� she says, “There’s so much I want to do before I settle down. But it really would be grand if we get married, Remus. Maybe in a few years, you know.”�

Now she’s looking at him calmly, as though expecting him to sweep her off her feet and carry her to the nearest chapel. But what else can he do? Making a promise like that…one that he couldn’t keep…

“Trinn, I can’t marry you.”�

He breathes.

She blinks.

“Why not?”�

How can he lie to her? Easily. Just as he’s been doing the past four years.

“I just…can’t.”� It’s a stupid excuse, so he invents something. “I have so much I’m responsible for right now, my mum being so ill and all — “

He stops short. An odd, closed expression comes over her and he wants to take back everything he just said, exclaim, “Of course we’ll get married!”� Of course, he can’t. He never will.

It seemed she was doing some very quick thinking of her own, only when she spoke, it was only to say, “Okay. That’s fine.”�

Remus would give anything to get up and run, but she beats him to it.


	6. Poison

  
**1981**

_I can see clearly now the rain has gone_   


Remus is twenty-one and contemplating suicide. At least, he was four hours ago. It’s been four days and he still can’t wrap his head around it. Lily and James are dead. Harry’s living with muggle relatives. Pete’s dead. Sirius killed him. And with Voldemort gone, the Order has disbanded, along with every semblance of normalcy in his life. No friends, no work, nothing. Yes, suicide had seemed a good idea at the time.

The poison is actually in his hand when there is a knock on the door.

It’s his muggle landlord, bearing a letter that hadn’t ended up in the proper postbox. Feeling rather annoyed, Remus takes the letter, but stops dead in his tracks when he notices the return address. With trembling hands, he opens the envelope.

_Remus —_

_Don’t be_ too _surprised. I picked up a few tricks while abroad in India two years ago, namely how to use the muggle post._

_Could we meet? Three Broomsticks at four o’clock? This is probably an awful time, I know, but I think it would be grand if we could maybe talk. Best use owl post, I’m not sure the muggle way will get back to me in enough time._

_— Trinn_

So now he’s sitting at a corner table of the Three Broomsticks, drumming his fingers against the battered wood, trying to ignore the look of sympathy Rosmerta keeps shooting his way. It’s as though everyone knows what he had been on the verge of doing a mere four hours earlier.

Then the bell above the door tinkles and Trinn enters the pub with a rush of cold air. It’s the same Trinn he remembers from three years ago — curly black hair, high-set eyebrows, an air of pleasant appraisal at her surroundings. If she weren’t hugely pregnant, he thinks he would hardly know any time had passed. He watches as she looks around, finally sees him, and smiles. Remus smiles back as she slides into the seat across from him.

“It’s so good to see you,”� she says, and he can tell she means it. She’s probably the last person left who can claim that particular accomplishment.

“And you. I heard about your marriage. Congratulations.”�

She smiles in acknowledgement and places her hand over her stomach. “Thanks. I’m due in November, you know.”�

“I heard. Thought of any names yet?”�

“Actually, I thought of naming him after you.”�

He’s not entirely sure why this makes him feel so awkward. There is a moment of silence. And then -

“How are you dealing?”� She doesn’t waste time edging her way around the subject, using pleasantries to avoid the elephant in the room. That’s one of the things he’s always liked about Trinn, and though Remus is momentarily annoyed, he’s quickly thankful for that one constant.

He grimaces and says wryly, “As badly as can be expected.”�

“You look awful.”�

“Ta, Chenoweth.”�

“Not Chenoweth anymore,”� she reminds him lightly. An awkward moment descends as Remus mentally kicks himself. That night has come back to haunt him so many times in the three years since that it hardly seems that it actually happened. It did, though, and it was entirely his own fault, because he hadn’t had the nerve to tell her the simple, raw truth.

When he raises his eyes to meet hers, however, he somehow knows that their thoughts are mirroring one another’s. And after years of careful hiding, meticulous planning, what she says next hardly surprises him.

“I know, you know.”�

“What?”�

“I always knew. Dad was on the Registration Committee. How could I not know?”�

He sits in stunned silence for moments. Trinn watches him patiently as he struggles to form the question he knows he must ask.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”�

“I thought it would pressure you. I didn’t want you to seize the opportunity to have a life with someone who respected you despite all that, without ever thinking whether I was the one or not. And when you wouldn’t marry me, I overreacted, yes, but I also knew it was because I wasn’t the one. Because you wouldn’t tell me on your own.”� She takes a breath and stares out the window at the falling leaves. “Someday you _will_ meet the right girl, though, and when you finally get yourself all worked up about telling her, she might just surprise you.”�


	7. Epilogue: 1993

 

Epilogue: 1993

_singing "here we go again"_

Remus is thirty-three the first time he meets her. Of course, he's known her for twelve years already. Known of her, that is. He's certain they've never actually met. Now he finds himself scanning his second year class list and stopping at a name, a very particular name. He looks up at her, all ablaze with wispy blonde hair and a Ravenclaw tie.

He'd gotten the birth announcement twelve years ago, and hadn't gone to the christening, hadn't accepted Trinn's request to be the godfather. He was too dangerous, not dependable enough. She had accepted this with grace, just as she had accepted his refusal to marry her.

He'd gotten the death announcement three years ago, and hadn't gone to the funeral. It was too hard for him to accept that the last vestiges of his childhood gone, along with the last remaining person to whom he didn't have to apologize for himself.

He knows now that he should have been a greater part of her daughter's life, at least as a godfather if not an actual father. He knows now that it is time to make amends.

He looks down at the roll once more, then back at the girl named after him, as promised.

_Luna._


End file.
